For I have sinned
by HedgeNinja
Summary: *DA2 end spoilers* Everything's in ruins and Hawke wants out. On the run he finds refuge in Starkhaven, in the last place he would have wanted, but there's always a price when the truth comes to light. K'meme prompted, sequel will follow.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's notes: based on a kinkmeme prompt (see below), will eventually be tying in a second one as well._

* * *

><p>The future tasted of ashes, or perhaps that was the ale Hawke mused, staring into the mug as if the foam might somehow step up in place of tea leaves and dispense wisdom on what in the name of the Black City he was supposed to do now. The noise of the tavern's crowd flowed around him unheeded, he might as well have been submerged in the mug's contents (working on it; the night was still young). Kirkwall was in flames, and with it the new life he'd worked to build for himself and his family; with it the "merry band of misfits" who'd become one another's adopted family, who'd kept him going as he'd lost every person bound to him by blood. And with it- no. That loss was not going to be dwelt on without the benefits of something stronger than ale; this ale anyway. <p>

Hawke scowled at the memories; and at the nagging itch of nearly a week's worth of stubble and whatever bloody stuff now rinsed through it and his hair that had seen it lighten from near-black to some form of sandy brown. It still felt like it belonged to someone else; maybe it did.

"_It lasts for weeks and it's very easy to make" _Merrill had said when she'd produced the powder after the one and only stop they'd made just outside Kirkwall, there had been no time to return to the estate as they'd fled the ruins of the Gallows. Varric had called in every favour he had to sell their old lives to supply their new careers as fugitives. Including, apparently, hair dye.

"_Isabela showed me"_ she'd had added hurriedly, after Hawke had raised an eyebrow remembering the last dye-related experiment. The dog's coat had returned to normal; eventually. _"We were out shopping and she said it would be fun, and that it could look very 'distinctive' if you put just some streaks in the right places. Although I think it would look distinctive anyway because she has such beautiful hair, and yours is a lovely colour too but this might be a good time to look, well, less like you…For a while."_

_/I hope your Creator's listening Merrill; keep you safe. And him./_

Two days after that they'd parted, well into the emptiness of the Marches north of Kirkwall. They had their reasons for wanting to stay, every one of them simply added to Hawke's list for wanting to be somewhere else. Several days had brought him to the imaginatively named Stonehill, some distance east of the Kirkwall-Starkhaven border and hopefully large enough to provide some halfway accurate rumours, and for one more traveler to pass unnoticed. He'd sifted through the assertions that everyone from the Tevinter Imperium to the Qunari were invading, or that Knight-Commander Meredith was about to lead a new Exalted March against the both of them. Eventually he'd managed to determine that Sebastian Vael had returned to Starkhaven, and that news of Meredith and Orsino's deaths had crossed borders likely before the bodies in the courtyard had even begun to cool. As had the rebellion. From the sounds of things he'd only beaten the army reinforcements heading to this region of the border by a couple of days and there was talk of Templars being assigned to all units, with or without mages. More worryingly, both the coastal road and Starkhaven's port of Havenshore were closed.

_So how's that plan to slip through Starkhaven where nobody knows you and head for Fereldan by sea working out Hawke? Maybe you should have taken Isabela up on her offer of a job, or at least a lift._

_Except you couldn't cut him loose that easily, could you?_

_You've got your war Anders. I hope it's everything you wanted._

The twist of that pain like a knife between the ribs sent Hawke moving towards the bar for that something stronger; absently noting as he did the still-strange lightness of a lack of armour or weaponry. Sometime nobility and Champion of Kirkwall and drinking without a blade to hand felt unusual. Given the mood across the Marches it had seemed worth the risk; with this many troops on the move they'd likely being viewing anyone carrying a sword and looking like they knew how to use it as an enemy or a potential recruit; neither appealed. The last ten years of his life had been all about picking sides, taking stands, saving people; putting into practice all those ethics your parents taught you. Except before any of those they'd taught him another, simpler lesson: to survive, you had to know when to let everything go and run. It was just a question of where.

He was on the point of raising a hand to signal the barkeep when the screams started up from the street outside; screams cutting through another sound- that peculiar roaring groan of newly summoned abominations. Andraste's arse, could a man not drown his sorrows in peace for one night? Hawke shoved his way to the tavern's entrance cracking the door open to peer into the late twilight. Perhaps a couple of hundred feet down the street towards the 'town gates' something- a cart, or a carriage?- blocked the road surrounded by a tangle of screaming horses, men, monsters and, blood mages. Of course there were.

_And no-one to know if you decided to be just another citizen cowering under a table hoping to be spared. Any chance that's an option? _

_Since I appear to be running practically unarmed down the street towards the screaming, probably not. _

_Despite how incredibly stupid that is? _

_Well it's been a week since I've done something that stupid; I like to keep in practice. Any more questions?_

_Where's your runed armour and shiny sword Champion?_

_I gave them to a dwarf and he sold them; although in fairness I did ask him to._

_And what happens if these mages are…old acquaintances?_

_Please Maker; please don't ask me to make that choice again._

Hawke's eyes took in the details instinctively as he ran. Three- no four- abominations ranged across the street, clawing at doors, windows, creating terror in nearby buildings before returning to tear at the carriage sprawled drunkenly on one broken axle. One horse lay silent, the other thrashed in the traces. Three mages, the white glow of shields flickering around them. The men still standing, while clearly skilled, seemed torn between dealing with the more dangerous threat of blood mages and the more immediate threat of abominations trying to rip open the carriage. They'd probably never faced the sight of their friends sprawled in agony across the cobbles from a heroic if foolish head-on charge, smothered within a red mist, tendrils winding between mages and bodies. Never had to realise that your death would quite literally feed your enemies' strength. Hawke's sudden arrival sliding across the cobbles to hamstring the nearest abomination didn't seem to have done anything for anyone's nerves.

"Archers! Both of you! And you!" Hawke's voice rose above the chaos as he snatched a sword from the startled hand of the third man identified, a bow still slung across one shoulder. "Focused fire, left hand mage; fire and _keep moving_. Watch for the white flicker, the shield's weakest then. The rest of you" Hawke spun round to bury the sword in the chest of the abomination his arrival trick had sent briefly to one knee "keep the monsters busy, work together to draw them off the carriage; they go down hard but they go down" A couple of men nearest stepped in to finish the kill; one down, three to go. "What about-" someone shouted, Hawke was already moving, grabbing the reins and slashing harness free from the remaining live horse. "I'll take care of the rest of your mage problem; they can't cast if they're dead" Hawke's grin in the dark was feral; at least for a brief time everything could be very simple.

A bit of luck and a lot of heaving on the broken reins sent the panicked animal careening down the street towards the mages. Hawke felt a twinge of guilt for its likely fate but the distraction it caused as it staggered through the trails of blood and power, and a well-timed shot of opportunity from an archer bought him the time and protection to reach and dispatch the centre mage. One to g- what felt like dragon jaws sank into his leg, staggering him as he turned to face the final mage who chuckled, eyes red in madness, nothing human left. Hawke limped closer, awkwardly avoiding by inches the second coil of red that lashed out at him, ignoring the pain as blood pulsed sluggishly down his leg; ignoring the spell that built in sparks between the mage's hands until he was close enough to- there. The dagger thrown at close range didn't penetrate the shield but it was followed shortly after by Hawke's full weight crashing against it, sending them both down. He felt the shield drop as the mage's concentration wavered, even as the teeth went forth and multiplied, ripping up and down his leg, black spots starting to flicker across his vision as the blood ran faster. The mage snarled as his hand came up to cast whatever spell he'd drawn Hawke's blood into; too late. "Throat's quicker" Hawke rasped, dragging his sword around to slash a line across the mage's that even blood magic couldn't heal. Teeth mauled his leg in one final spasm then faded as the spell scattered to red mist.

_So this is what taking on blood mages without any sort of healing feels like. Not recommended._ Hawke thought, dragging himself to one knee via a sword to check the status of his exhaustively planned strategy. It looked like they might actually have been winning but it was hard to be sure as the spots in his vision grew to flashes and blackness swallowed everything.

A sense of movement and what felt like an ogre pounding inside his skull drew Hawke's returning awareness to the fact that he wasn't dead. The world resolved itself into the roof of some sort of wagon. Hawke blinked "Wha-"

"Good you're awake" a woman's voice came from nearby. Turning his head with a wince Hawke looked across two other pallets crammed across the wagon's floor. Opposite him by the open back sat a dark haired young woman whose expensive clothing seemed entirely at odds with the wagon and the upturned wooden crate she was using as a seat. "You've been unconscious since last night and I would be most put out at your death after all the effort we have put into saving one another's lives."

Last night; saving; oh yes. "That was your carriage" Hawke said, remembering just in time to let the Fereldan accent, softened from the years in Kirkwall thicken somewhat. It sounded strange to his ears, and hopefully to anyone else seeking former Champions.

"Yes. I am Lady Flora Harriman, and my men and myself are grateful for your, timely arrival, and your apparent experience in fighting such creatures."

"Glad I could help Milady, and I'm in your debt for saving my life" Hawke sat up gingerly, the dull ache in his leg eclipsed by the headache and the fact that he felt like a half-drowned kitten; his mouth was as dry as a chalk pit. He was also being transported to an unknown destination by a noblewoman, some of whose immediate family he may have helped to kill, and who was watching him with a look that suggested she was making Plans. Smart men learned to be wary of such a look.

Hawke thought he recognised one of the men asleep (or diligently faking) on the wagon's floor as one of the archers he'd been yelling at. "How many did you lose?" She frowned "Three, no doubt it would have been much higher. Rodain's leg may take some time to heal from the horse, and according to the healer you should consider yourself lucky not to have been dead by the time they found you; there is quite the dent in the healing supplies." She smiled slightly "At least we were able to be rid of that carriage, we'll make better time this way and I hate the bloody things, they're always so cramped." Oh yes; definitely wary.

Lady Harriman offered him a water flask; it tasted of heaven "What is your name?"

"Matthias Hale, Milady" Hawke hoped he wouldn't be meeting the sergeant's ghost anytime soon to hear his opinion on borrowing names without permission. She waved away the honourific "Please, we'll be here all day. You are Fereldan?" "I was." "And a soldier?" "For a time." She nodded "Well Serah Hale, while grateful I did not go to all this effort merely out of a sense of charity. You may have noticed there is a war on, Starkhaven is going to need men of your skills" she huffed in mock annoyance "and I suppose I should give His Grace the first right of refusal."

The wariness was ringing an alarm bell in the back of his head "His…Grace?"

"Sebastian Vael, the Prince of Starkhaven. We'll being arriving in about three days I expect" she tossed him a wrapped bundle from at her feet and another smaller flask "so I suggest you rest well and heal fast."

Hawke caught the items without thought, most of his concentration taken up on not letting his face reveal his very serious consideration of simply taking a dive out of the back of the wagon, though he doubted he'd make it fifty yards. Starkhaven and Sebastian Vael. One of these days Hawke, you need to learn to hide under a table.

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><p><em>Original prompt: <em>Hawke is on the run for sparing Anders, as well as siding with the mages. Desperate for food/shelter/work, Hawke signs him/herself into the service of a ruler. The problem? Hawke works for Prince Sebastian Vael. So Hawke has to wear a disguise to keep him/herself from getting caught. But eventually, the sh*t hits the fan and he finds out.

And I have plans for where things will go after that...heh heh heh.


	2. Chapter 2

For someone unused to wagons, Lady Harriman's prediction turned out to be remarkably accurate. Three days, in which Hawke had lost track of the number of times a voice in his head had screamed that this was without doubt the most _insane_ plan he'd ever gone along with. As it turned out, one less time than Hawke had been able to counter that that was why it might just work. And that for once, he wanted to take the path of least resistance. Sudden departures seemed likely to cause problems; he suspected that it genuinely hadn't occurred to Lady Harriman at the time that summarily transporting citizens halfway across the city-state might be disruptive to whatever employment they'd had. He'd made a point of 'sending messages' the first night they'd halted to tell Matthias Hale's associates of 'unavoidable delays'. The rest of the journey had been spent busily pulling truth into lies concerning just who Matthias Hale was; Varric would have been proud. _/And if I make it out of this entire mess without my carcass decorating a gibbet somewhere in Starkhaven, your 'master of bullshit' crown will be gaining a new owner./_

-o-o-  
>Ignoring whether it was a good idea or not Hawke had been out of the wagon and walking with the rest of the guard the following day. He may have been spoilt by practically on tap magical healing in Kirkwall but Lady Harriman's healing supplies were definitely high quality, not snake oil and herbs. Plus he had a reputation to maintain- well, create. Over three days he'd managed to spin enough tales about monsters faced during the Blight to avoid having to reveal too much about Matthias Hale's recent past in Starkhaven; most of them creatively cooked up from events in Kirkwall. He never mentioned being at Ostagar; that truth and its memories remained private. There'd been an awkward "Sorry I got you trampled by a horse" moment with Rodain, who was the lucky recipient of much (mostly) good-natured ribbing about 'excessive wagoning', and promises that many rounds would be owed. The general agreement reached was that a broken leg beat being on a blood mage's menu any day. Harriman's men had stories too, mostly involving the human sort of monster. The recent cross-border politics had made Lady Harriman a high profile target and several parties had not been shy in their attempts to curry favour with the newly returned scion of the Vael family. They'd seen plenty of action, and they had betrayal scars of their own.<p>

-o-o-  
>At midday of the second day after their arrival in Starkhaven one Matthias Hale was summoned to the presence of his Grace Prince Sebastian Vael. So, time to find out how much you believe in this tale you're telling Hawke. Enough to make it true for the time it takes to tell it?<p>

-o-o-  
>There was a look in the prince's eyes as Hawke entered that would have made him nervous, even had he not been adopting the stance of the somewhat nervous citizen who had somehow attracted the attention of the powers that be. There had been anger the first time they'd met, undercut with uncertainty, although Vael had rarely allowed it to show. Then he'd been a man caught between two paths, forced down a road he had fought to leave behind and not knowing if the outcome would be worth the price. Hawke had remembered that all too well from the first year in Kirkwall. If Sebastian's anger had eased somewhat with finding out the truth behind his family's murders the uncertainty had remained. Knowing the facts didn't stop the questions that came in the witching hour. Now however, the fury that had ignited again amidst the ruins of the chantry lit the eyes of a man with a purpose; two former paths now serving one goal. Hawke was uncomfortably aware that a share of that look concerned him. <em>Luckily for you then, _Hale_, that tonight that person is not here/. _Would Anders recognise, or even care, what he had drawn from this man?

-o-o-  
>Vael hadn't offered him a seat; that was fine. For conversations longer than a minute parade rest was more comfortable than any chair Hawke had ever encountered in an official's office.<p>

"Serah Hale, Lady Harriman has been most generous in her recommendation of you."  
>"The Lady is too kind Your Grace; I simply helped how I could. As I'm sure any man would have."<p>

"A surprising faith in your fellow man, even if blood mages had not been involved. Many men would fear to stand against such an enemy, and for a stranger."

"When I was a soldier your Grace, it wasn't often your own you were protecting. Lot of prayers got sent hoping someone was doing for your family what you were doing for theirs. As for blood mages, I've seen more than I ever want to of the monsters that crawl up from below and their spellslingers. The human ones, they die easier."

Vael nodded in acknowledgement "Often true, and certainly the Marches should be thankful that we were spared the suffering of the Blight. Yet I fear in the days to come that the world will learn that sometimes it is the human monster that is the least expected, and the most dangerous." A memory flickered in his eyes for a moment. Hawke focused on darkspawn; not wanting his eyes to reveal how much of the last several days he had spent trying to avoid that same question. After a moment the prince resumed "How long have you been in the Free Marches?"

-o-o-  
>The next few hours involved an interrogation that Aveline and possibly the late Matthias Hale himself would have been impressed at. Even with three days 'rehearsal' Hawke frequently had to trust that his brain would remember later what he'd said as the character of Matthias Hale was examined in a depth he hadn't even remotely considered.<p>

Three years in the Marches, all in Starkhaven. Eight years in the army, been out a year before I came here. During the Blight (At least these were now more familiar untruths) I served at White River under Bann Reginelda, and, at the end, at Denerim. After, well there were fewer darkspawn but the rebuilding years weren't easy; a lot of actual building through Oswin and River Dane. I met my wife there. Demon's teeth, how did Varric do this every day? Getting by in Kirkwall for Hawke had generally involved less subterfuge and more sarcasm and invitations of violence.

_/You're out of practice Hawke, think of those glorious early smuggler days./ _

_/Those lies involved fewer justifications of supposed life choices and weren't to someone planning a personal vendetta against my former life./ _

_/So that just makes it more exciting, right?/_

-o-o-  
>"What do you believe on the question of mages, Serah Hale?"<p>

The sudden change of direction threw Hawke momentarily, and brought yet more unwanted reflections. "I've met few that were human, they seemed to live well enough within the Circle; maybe all of our beliefs will change by the time this trouble is over your Grace. But I have nothing to say to blood mages; or those who murdered innocents at Kirkwall. What matters now is to finish what they've brought to us." /_Is this lying business getting any easier yet?/_

The news on recent events in Kirkwall? The Chantry had been destroyed. The Grand Cleric, Knight Commander, First Enchanter all dead. The mages were in rebellion. And all rumours mentioned the Champion but none of them agreed. The 'what's weren't the biggest danger, it was the 'why's. The questions weren't aggressive but they were relentless; Vael's eyes on him, watching, assessing not just the skills but the man in front of him.

-o-o-  
>"What will history say of Teyrn Loghain?"<p>

An easier opinion to voice at least; "Loghain was a traitor; good men threw their lives away at Ostagar, men who were needed."

"You make no mention of Ostagar Serah, did you serve there?"

"No your Grace. We, marched too late." It took everything Hawke had to keep his voice even in denial, asking the ghosts to forgive him for what he'd done with their truth.

"Yet you served Loghain during the Blight."

"We tried to serve Fereldan; there was enough that needed salvaging apart from what was happening at the capital."

"What brought you to the Marches?"

"A year after I left service I…lost my wife. A fever. There was nothing for me there any longer."

"And now your new home finds itself at war what are your intentions, would you take up service again?"

"The borderland isn't what you'd call stable, I've no doubt we'll need every soldier you send. But…armies can't be everywhere; many will want to protect their own as well. We'll fight as we're needed to send any trouble back where it came from. With respect though your Grace; this seems a lot of trouble to put yourself to for one more soldier."

-o-o-  
>Vael's lip quirked in the briefest of smiles "There are more efficient recruiting methods no doubt. And it will not be the only way to fight in this war. How much do you know of Starkhaven's recent…history?"<p>

Not good. Hawke had no idea just how much of the truth about who had been behind the Vaels' murders was now common knowledge. "I know of the death of your family your Grace; I'm sorry."

"And of those responsible?"

Arse. "Rumours only." the silence was clearly waiting to be filled with details. Ante up and hope then. "A family in Kirkwall. The Harrimans; supposedly."

The prince's eyes narrowed slightly "You hear many rumours Serah."

"A lot of talk travels fast close to the border, even if most of it's not worth knowing. My experience, it's what you don't know that gets you killed."

"You are aware whose wagon brought you through Starkhaven's gates."

"If justice had been waiting for her at Starkhaven your Grace it seemed likely you would have known about it before she did. She made no secret of her travel or visiting plans. Taking action against someone who saved my life on the word of a rumour seemed…rash."

The prince regarded him consideringly in silence, weighing the words of the last few hours while Hawke held his best "respectfully unfazed while on guard duty despite your efforts to distract me sarge" look. It had proved useful in meetings with the Viscount when the property damage or casualty list had been especially high. For some reason right now the current plan seemed even more stupid than at any other time he'd stopped to consider it. After a long moment Vael seemed to reach a decision.

-o-o-  
>"The rumours you speak of are true Serah Hale, as is your intuition. Lady Harriman is innocent of involvement in her family's actions; she is here at my request. And you are right I did not call you here merely to ask for your service in the military. The crimes committed in Kirkwall have left the city in chaos, without leadership, and you have seen for yourself how quickly the rebellion is spreading. We face war beyond and within our borders and my cousin's rule has left us, poorly prepared. Starkhaven must be united if we are to take up the task the Maker has laid upon us and offer any manner of justice to Kirkwall. While our Circle has remained relatively under control the Templar Order will find their resources and resolve sorely tested in the months to come. The city must be an example for our people to look to and I require someone that I can trust to maintain order in the city who understands the true nature of the threat we face. Therefore Matthias Hale I ask you to serve as Captain of the Guard of Starkhaven."<p>

-o-o-  
>It wasn't completely unexpected although a large part of Hawke still couldn't believe the entire charade had actually gone this far. Right; unfazed. He wondered if there was still an option to back out of this. "You wish to give that role to an outsider, a former Fereldan, who- beg your pardon your Grace- has not yet visited the capital?"<p>

Vael gestured to the office's interior "Yet here you are; I have faith in your ability to learn quickly. No man knows when or where he may be called upon; all he can do is answer when he is needed."

_/Screw the crown. Varric, when you write this up I want royalties. _All_ the royalties./_

"Then, I am honoured to accept, your Grace."

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><p><em>Author's notes: Ah, awkward job interviews with people who don't realise they want to kill you. Also, I'm only partway through a playthrough of DA2 with Sebastian in the party, so his dialogue's still kind of a work in progress. Comments, criticisms, flames all welcome.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry about the silly things between paragraphs folks, it's the only way I can get fanfic to recognise double spacing between paragraphs._

* * *

><p>-o-o-<p>

The afternoon had been a frantic roil of activity since Hawke left the prince's office. He'd briefly returned to take his leave from Lady Harriman and move what little gear he had to the Guard Captain's quarters- she'd had it retrieved from the tavern the same night she'd decided to retrieve him. It was followed by a visit to supplies and accounting; then a return to the palace to swear his services to the Prince of Starkhaven; and finally a trip to the barracks proper to meet his new command. It was well after midnight before Hawke was able to return to his new living quarters. Separate from the palace and the main guard house/communal barracks they were close enough to both for the occupant to be reachable at any and all hours. Well, he'd suspected the next couple of weeks wouldn't involve a lot of sleep. Come to think of it the desk in Aveline's office had been just about large enough to fit a bedroll under…Happily it had turned out that in exchange for living lean for a few months the advance on a Captain's pay was enough to own some decent gear, if not what he was used to. Hawke thought briefly with regret of the equipment hastily sold, most of the coin had gone to the others, likely they wouldn't be in a position to be getting any more any time soon. Still, barracks food kept you alive, even if it gave new meaning to the phrase 'united in adversity'.

-o-o-

The meetings at both buildings had gifted him with a terrifying amount of paperwork. Orders, briefings, personal lists, reports, patrol routes. Some of it he'd left at the barracks office, putting off the inevitable. Lists of names, the latest batch of reports along with a map of Starkhaven and surroundings marked with patrol routes he'd reluctantly dragged back with him to make some start on putting the pieces together. Something about an old dog and new tricks? Hawke shook his head, amused, remembering the "Captain Dog-Lord" comment muttered just quietly enough to be deniable. Was that really as creative a title as they could come up with? He'd have to work on that; honestly he was convinced the rest of Thedas was more obsessed about Fereldans and their dogs than Fereldans themselves sometimes. He did miss Elka's comforting presence but mabari weren't exactly inconspicuous, she'd be better off with Aveline…

"_We have to go, now, get out of the city before anyone has a chance to make sense of anything." Hawke's throat and eyes were gritty with fatigue as they made their way wearily towards the barge that had brought them to the Gallows, now their escape route. Aveline nodded tiredly, her eyes glancing behind them and back to his as the two of them covered the group's retreat._

"_I know. I can't go with you Hawke; I swore an oath to protect the people in this city and I won't abandon them; not now."_

_He'd known this was coming; knew what it must have cost her to put her loyalty to him above her commitment to the law over the last few hours- it felt like days._

"_I understand. We won't be able to go back, can you make sure Orana and the others get away from the estate safely before anyone comes looking?" she nodded "Also, I want you to keep Elka here. She's too visible for where we're going; wherever that is." Aveline managed half a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes._

"_You're giving me my best guardswoman full-time? Looks like you won't be leaving us short-handed after all."_

"_Take care of the place for me; I know I've wished that large parts of it would fall into the sea sometimes but Makers Eye, not like this."_

"_I will; it's what I do" her smile faded "Hawke- are you sure about this? About him?" No need to ask who she meant._

-o-o-

The reality of his new situation hit Hawke like a bolt from Bianca at point blank range. He wasn't sure, hadn't been sure since that column of fire had torn apart the Chantry and maybe the world. No-one that night had known for certain what their actions would bring to the future, so they'd all focused on the immediate problem in front of them, on something they had any hope of influencing. He'd wanted his friends alive at the end of it all, and he hadn't been willing to let the entire Circle pay for one man's actions. And that one man? It should have been certain; how many times had they made the decision to deal out death outside the law. Yet he couldn't; didn't know if it had been out of love or hate or guilt. And afterwards he hadn't wanted the responsibility of those decisions over anyone but himself. He could understand why Fenris had chosen to leave with Isabela on the _Bladedancer_; the offer of a place to call your own that came with you when you ran was a powerful one.

_/And yet the first opportunity down the road and you're protecting total strangers; and now here you are. Seems like you can't walk away even when you want to./ _Strangely enough they might actually need him here, and there was a certain attraction to keeping someone else's law without feeling like you were making it up as you went along every day. Aveline would have laughed; penance for your sins Hawke. For how long; well until this game of hide-and-seek with your enemy runs out of time. Not forever, just a resting place; for a little while. And the mage rebellion? Was no longer his cause, perhaps he'd be able to help a few but he had risked and given all he was going to for that cause; and it wasn't the hardest part of his past he'd walked away from.

Meanwhile that pile of paperwork seemed to be growing larger the longer he ignored it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-

Over the next few weeks Hawke became increasingly glad that he'd used those one and a half days of relative freedom on arriving in Starkhaven to track down half a year's supply of that dye of Merrill's before he gained any kind of profile in the city. Some earnest story about how it was for his wife and he was sure she'd be pleased, and he was just some idiot due to get slapped for suggesting to his better half that the years weren't treating her kindly. Since then he couldn't remember the last time he'd left the barracks compound for non-work related reasons. Any of his time not involving patrols or meetings seemed to get swallowed by paperwork or roaming the city to learn all its 'unofficial' pieces. Patrols were no use if you didn't have an idea of how things and people could slip through the cracks. Unlike Kirkwall before Aveline's arrival the standard of training here was actually decent at least, and thanks to the sudden changeover of people at the top of the power structure the corruption scene was temporarily about as coordinated as a lightening struck giant spider.

-o-o-

Apart from an increased emphasis on ranged weapons most of Hawke's efforts (and a certain amount of glee) had been in setting up training drills designed to give some idea of what it could be like going up against mages. Not using actual mages, but years of hanging out with Isabela and Varric had introduced him to a myriad of traps and items that could produce large amounts of light, sound, terrible smells and colour. All fun to use against your fellow guards if you were a 'mage', until you were on the receiving end; payback was a bitch. They'd help with everyone's general observation skills as well, and Hawke noted with satisfaction that the mutterings did indeed get more creative than 'Dog Lord' after the first week. They could hate the drills all they wanted as long as they learned from them.

-o-o-

He'd managed, barely, to convince Vael not to bring the city under martial law. It would mean more work for them keeping the peace well enough to ensure that didn't change, but those kinds of restrictions brought their own trouble with them. And the mage threat had come with another two-edged sword- closer co-operation with the templars. For a given value of co-operation. Word came down from on high to both groups that there would be 'substantial overlap' in patrol routes, and periodic joint forays to clear the better known bolt holes and movement routes surrounding Starkhaven and along the river. While there were benefits to having some extra magic defense nearby the templars were also almost entirely disinterested in anything not related to the mage threat. And their habit of making random sweeps and arrests created resentment that tended to be taken out on the guard. People seemed fairly uncaring about exactly which uniform authority had been wearing when it had kicked open your door at dawn. The templars might be on a mission from the Maker but the guard had to at least make a show of asking a few questions before breaking heads. Hawke had had to admit defeat on that issue, Knight Commander Braegan wasn't Meredith but the recent near total loss of the Starkhaven Circle and the current crisis had hardened his stance. Hawke had resorted to shifting squads on and off the fullnight watch- who took the brunt of the trouble- more often, to avoid having a mutiny on his hands. Like Kirkwall, after dark large sections of Starkhaven did not play well with anyone.

-o-o-

Peace held in Starkhaven; uneasily. It seemed like the templars were bringing mages in every other day from some area of the state yet the ranks of the Circle rarely increased. Nearly all of those brought back were ringleader to be made examples of, by execution or the Rite of Tranquility. Every day Hawke dreaded hearing Anders' or Merrill's name on someone's lips or on a list of dead. He worried too for the others; Kirkwall's leadership was in shambles, struggling to bring their lands under control as Starkhaven fought within hers. And every day that Anders and a certain (former) Champion remained uncaptured by Kirkwall fed the prince's conviction that the city should be brought under Starkhaven's control.

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-

Despite his efforts to keep a low profile Sebastian seemed interested in his opinions on matters beyond the weekly reports; tactics, combat experience. Hawke realised that for all the prince's outward confidence he probably hadn't had to direct a sustained military campaign; even re-taking Starkhaven had been at least half politicking. Of course Hawke wasn't exactly an expert either but it didn't seem like a good time to mention that. He was also keenly aware that any advice given might somehow be responsible, however indirectly for the death of friends.

"Perhaps I made a mistake in not asking for your service in military matters" Sebastian commented one evening.

"I doubt I'll give you anything your generals who actually do this for a living won't; although the council might not complain if you found a reason to get me out of the city for a few months." Or permanently. Aveline had once said that a Guard Captain wasn't doing their job properly if the nobles weren't regularly complaining to those in charge about the guards' interference in their right to do whatever they wanted. She was right; sometimes it was all about the small (well alright petty) joys.

"Likely they wouldn't, although in fairness I've received almost as many complaints from them concerning the Order's activities as well. However I have faith that in my absence all the voices of authority will be able to work together for the good of Starkhaven" the slight sarcasm in the prince's words softened the tiredness underneath "Fortunately we still have some time before that bridge will be crossed."

"You have no more leads then, on the ringleaders?" Hawke wasn't sure what he'd do if the answer became yes, in one case because he knew it wouldn't be true and in the other because he feared it might be.

Sebastian frowned "Nothing definite; and Kirkwall has not been forthcoming regarding their other companions and what they may know. We may have already delayed too long on that front, however I do not intend for this campaign to be drawn out any longer than necessary by moving over hastily."

"Your Grace…even Anders' death will not crush this rebellion. This goes beyond one man now."

"You think this military action unwise then?" There was an edge in the prince's tone that warned Hawke to choose his next words carefully.

"Control of both sides of the border will help to secure Starkhaven's safety and strike further at the rebellion, but this isn't a Blight led by an Archdemon; those targets will be less clear and harder to find than we hope. And I would not wish civil war or as near as makes no difference on anywhere in the Marches."

"Believe me Serah when I say I understand very well the consequences of one city-state acting against another. I do not choose this course lightly." The thread of anger in his words flared then ebbed in his eyes as Sebastian broke off to study him, silently debating whether what he clearly wanted to say would be to Hawke or not.

-o-o-

"I knew the Champion" he said at last, quietly "During my time in Kirkwall. We became, friends, he helped me discover the truth behind my family's murder. And…through him I met Anders" Hawke kept what he hoped was a carefully neutral expression for when your superior chooses to suddenly unburden to you.

"And even after I knew what he was, the danger of what he could become I trusted Hawke, his ability to keep the man free from the monster. We all did." He paused then went on "Before I dedicated myself to service in the Chantry few people in my life saw me as having any value; including myself. Grand Cleric Elthina was the exception. She saw it and she had the ability to help people see in themselves, of making you wish to be more, better than what you had been. She helped me become a man from the child I had been. Have you been lucky enough, to find that in someone Hale?"

"In my wife, yes your Grace I was."

"What was her name?"  
>"Talia." the lie of the non-existent woman burned bitter in his throat. <em>I thought I'd found it with someone anyway./_

-o-o-

"When I left the Chantry Elthina was right, it was revenge I wanted for my family not justice. And after it was over my path was clouded, as if I would be giving up something more important if I returned to Starkhaven. And then-" grief and anger mingled in his words "I was there. The night the abomination destroyed the Chantry, murdered innocents, murdered her. And with death still echoing off the walls the Champion betrayed all of us, and spared his life. Perhaps he knew what the mage had planned, I do not know. And I allowed it. Every night it shames me that I did not have the courage to do what should have been done, that I left because I wanted vengeance on all of Kirkwall for the crimes of individuals." After a moment, he continued "I failed her; but I will not dishonour her memory by seeking more destruction. It is not war I wish but unity; Kirkwall has been poorly served by her recent leaders and we cannot fight this war on individual fronts. We must work together with one purpose to defeat the mage threat. Only then can we begin to rebuild; the Chantry and our faith. In that perhaps we will find the strength to grant Andraste's mercy to the mages who have remained faithful to the Circle. And in that I hope to remember her, to try and follow the Maker's path for me as she believed I could."

-o-o-

Hawke struggled to find the words to reply, even as he fought down a sudden wave of anger. _/You have every right to your grief prince, but you have _no fucking idea_ about betrayal from that night./_

"You will have the strength of Starkhaven behind you your Grace; my word on that." Best to stick to generalities; pass over the fact that he still seemed to have a talent for compelling near strangers to pour out their hearts to him.

Sebastian nodded "Of that I have no doubt. And I'm afraid I've kept you overlong Captain; my apologies." His words were businesslike although Hawke could the weight behind his eyes lighten somewhat.

"No need your Grace. And your fugitives, will not be able to fun forever" The words seemed to be tempting fate even as he spoke.

"If the Maker wills it, no they won't." The resolve in the statement was quiet but steel clad.

-o-o-

Back in his quarters Hawke felt his anger still running hot. So Sebastian thought he might have been involved in the Chantry's destruction; _/I guess neither of us knew each other as well as we thought until that night./_ And it wasn't as if the questions hadn't been trying to haunt his sleep every night since then. What he'd missed, _how_ he'd missed, what might have been changed. Every night he'd buried those thoughts in a deep unmarked grave; perhaps they couldn't be avoided forever but damn it he was going to try. Hawke wasn't sure if it was an improvement that while Sebastian no longer wanted to raze Kirkwall to the ground he'd also decided he had a divine calling to rule it. He regretted, again, not having any means of contacting Varric. Surprisingly enough, lines of information in Starkhaven hadn't been mentioned when the dwarf had told them all to send him word when they could (purely for research purposes of course); it hadn't been on anyone's list of places to go anywhere near for, well, possibly forever.

_/And when war comes will you hold to your old loyalties or your new, did you mean those oaths you swore a few weeks ago? Would you support a war you might have helped to start while you were trying to prevent another?/_ The idea of reaching Ferelden seemed far away now and fading, it had only really been a plan in the absence of anything else.

_/Kirkwall, the later you run, if you run, the more you'll know, the better your chances of making the border in the confusion. Would they take you back, those you left; would you keep searching for yet another place to protect, defend, all that again?/_

_/You can't keep running forever Hawke; you have to make a stand somewhere. Soon, but not yet. But soon. Fate always trips you up when you're not ready./_

* * *

><p><em>Sooo, nothing in that last conversation Sebastian wouldn't have wanted to share with an enemy right? I'm looking forward to getting to bring snarky!Hawke back...<em>

_ That review button, it calls to you, and makes puppy dog eyes to rival even Anders'..._


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes, Hawke was forced to admit as he turned wearily to the next building, there were advantages to having templars dogging your patrol routes; like today. The river gate market patrols had sent a runner to the barracks that afternoon requesting extra backup. At a time when the flow of goods into the city should have been starting to ease after the day's rush the area had had been too busy and too tense. It had sounded like another brewing protest over the gate delays; the influx of people and items was being kept on a tighter leash as the talk of war made everything more uneasy and more supply chains got 'redirected' towards the army's needs. Protests were best dispersed before they became riots, it also sounded like a fine way to avoid the paperwork that seemed to grow on his desk overnight like some strange rectangular, incredibly bland mushroom. Hawke had grabbed several of the standby patrols and headed out; they'd been about three streets away when the screaming started.

-o-o-

What they'd found was a riot; made almost entirely of people under the influence of…something, but blood magic had a certain look when you knew what to look for. Why they hadn't met a massacre on the move he didn't know, maybe it hadn't taken completely but he didn't like their odds as the guards had formed up beside him, so very few. Back beyond the crowd he thought he could see the river gate closed, no way of knowing the fate of the guards stationed there. As the mob's focus began to shift from property damage and a few self-inflicted casualties, he'd been frantically scanning for something, anything to give a hint of where the mage(s) responsible might be. And to give them better options than killing civilians before being messily overwhelmed or running for their lives and letting people take their chances.

-o-o-

Suddenly, over from the docks had come a glorious blue haze washing across the crowd, somebody upstairs had heard their prayers and the templars had actually been around to step in; meaning the final toll was mostly wounded rather than dead. They'd sent for healers, and scrambled all reinforcements to try and manage the chaos of keeping the river gate closed, everyone else out and the survivors corralled in a warehouse on the templars' insistence in case whatever it was hadn't worn off completely. In between with the templars' (sort of) help there was the job of clearing the surrounding buildings of whatever might still be around. At least for once the Order could pick the task up of figuring out all the details of what had happened; they had three dead mages but apparently this had the feeling of prepared ritual, the work of more than three. Hawke wasn't keen on unknowns.

-o-o-

The first two floors of the building had been clear but the back of Hawke's neck had shivered in warning when he'd glanced upwards to the final floor.

"Let's find out where our supposed templar help has gotten to" Hawke commented as they headed for the stairs "They can show off that nice 'dispel magic' trick again before we sweep that top floor." Perrin the experienced hand of the two nodded, Amurlyn looked slightly disappointed; she was just out of training and Hawke usually would have had her partnered with another guard downstairs learning the essential skill of 'management through superior lung capacity' except that she was good with a crossbow. Very good; some customised if 'temperamental' setup that gave a near ideal blend of speed and power. Any threat that could be removed at long range with minimal fuss came into the preferred category in Hawke's book.

-o-o-

They re-entered the first room just as a blast of force rocked the stairwell, followed by the all too familiar red spirals spreading outwards hungrily across the room towards them, to the sounds of screams down the stairs.

"Nugshit. So much for backup." Hawke muttered, warily eyeing the deadly tendrils now blocking their exit route. And the only way to help the poor bastards caught in it was to deal with the source.

"New plan Captain?" from Perrin, one eye on the cloud and the other on Amurlyn's now less disappointed and more pale face; there was never a 'good' first encounter with blood magic. Hawke flicked a glance up the flight of stairs ending at a closed trapdoor immediately to their left.

"We get them before they get us. Perrin with me, Amur stay behind us until we know what's up there, and wait for a clear shot- you know what you're doing." She blinked too rapidly several times but straightened at the order in his voice, meeting his eyes.

"Yes Captain." Hawke shrugged his shield loose on his arm as they took the stairs two at a time.

-o-o-

Sometimes the 'slung shield as a decoy' trick bought you some time or told you how many enemies you might be facing. In this case as Hawke flung himself after it onto the third floor it also caught the lightening, arcing it to anyone else nearby. He had an instant to guess the rough origin direction, rolling to put as much distance between himself and the others before it-

Hit; sending him to the floor writhing, hearing the cries of the others through the crackling in his ears and the blue-white flares across his vision. As it faded Hawke pulled himself to his feet, narrowly avoiding the crack of a hex, then a second. Only one mage visible, crouched amongst debris at the room's far end, beside a glyph traced large on the floor symbolising Maker knew what, that had to have involved a lot of blood. Out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved his shield he saw Amurlyn crouched through the trapdoor, her first bolt hummed out, drawing a short laugh from the figure as it shattered against the flicker of a shield. Hawke stepped across swinging his shield out and up to deflect the return volley of rock away from the guard, then staggered as a second bolt smashed under the shield followed by a stab of pain from at least one rib; even Anders backed up by Justice hadn't been able to cast that quickly. Hawke closed on the mage, waiting for an opening as the latter raised his hand again, when a voice rang out below and the markings on the floor blazed blue then guttered to ash. At the same moment he felt the last sensation he would have expected; a thin trickle of healing magic across his side. Maker's arse who-?

-o-o-

Not likely the enemy in front of him who staggered, snarling, as the glyph died. His shield flared again as he dropped his arm, the sleeve dark and wet almost to the shoulder and red mist coiled once again at his feet. Hawke hastily stepped back out of range, as a muffled cry came from the room's far end; echoed an instant later from the mage as two bolts sprouted from his throat and eye, cutting through the shield's moment of weakness. "Well shot" Hawke called over his shoulder, skirting around the fading red ripples and the body to cautiously shove aside the piles of junk. Behind them a young man in worn ragged robes sat with hands laid flat on his knees, twin ribbons of blood trailing from his nose and mouth from having been the lucky target of that last casting. Hawke wondered if all healers were _completely_ crazy as he warily eyed the mage in front of him. The enemy mage who probably could have taken out both him and Amurlyn and they'd never have seen it coming; and who'd just healed him. Not completely, and nothing close to Anders' work, but still.

-o-o-

"Captain? Are you alright?" Amurlyn rounded the crates her questions cut off as she spotted the figure on the floor.

"Wait." Hawke held up a hand as her crossbow came up.

"Captain he's a blood mage! They would've- "

"Where's Perrin, is he still alive?" Hawke's voice hardened; the answer would decide the mage's fate, who waited, seemingly accepting of whatever decision came; Hawke didn't relax his guard.

"I think so, but he got hit hard when that lightening hit, knocked out; I pulled him clear of…that spell on the stairs, but I didn't want to leave you to face whatever was up here- "

"You did well guardsman" Hawke slung his weapons to haul the mage to his feet, one arm wrenched high enough up his back to draw a pained yelp.

"You" Hawke growled, heading for the stairs "can repeat that earlier little trick. Don't even _think_ about trying anything else."

"No more mana" came the gasped response.

"Since it's the only thing keeping you alive right now, I suggest you dig a little deeper."

-o-o-

Hawke had more than half expected to need to make good on his threat, for the healing to have been a feint. The voice of caution in his head screamed at him for risking Perrin's, possibly all of their lives on a hunch; except that this was the first remotely sane mage he'd met since the rebellion began. Despite the knife at his throat the mage managed enough healing to bring Perrin round groaning, and looking more than a little the worse for wear. Given how overworked the healers below were, he'd take it. The audience of three shocked and staring templars he could have done without. Hawke felt a slight twinge of guilt as he brought the hilt of his dagger across the back of the mage's skull, but an unconscious prisoner was one less thing to worry about when the storm finally broke from those watching.

"Amurlyn, you and Perrin are off duty, see Sergeant Iain and then get yourselves back to barracks; tell him I'm going to need a horse to get this one back."

"You won't need to deal with the malificar Captain; the Order will take him into custody." A templar finally spoke up; half of the pair who looked young enough that this might have been their first mission since taking their vows. And probably the two who'd been caught in the trap on the stairs; the fact that the Order could plentifully supply health potions for its members to carry on them the main reason they were both standing, if looking ragged around the edges.

-o-o-

Hawke continued securing the mage's hands.

"Seems to me you've got enough to deal with downstairs checking citizens for possession and figuring out what in the name of the Black City just happened here. I suggest you take a look at the markings on the floor upstairs. We'll send you a report when we're done with him."

"You have no authority over malificar and no ability to hold them; it is the Order's right and duty to-"

"If he was a malificar we'd all be dead. Right now he's just someone of interest in the Guard's investigation here." Hawke stood up, hearing the ice creak under his feet, the guards at his back probably unhappy but staying silent. He knew there wasn't a case to make, even to himself really, beyond a desire to hear what the mage had to say first hand rather than via a report from those unlikely to be impartial. _/So he doesn't remind you at all of anyone else then?/_

-o-o-

The templar made to speak again but the older knight (Hester? Hawke thought he'd heard her name mentioned as the templar reinforcements had started to arrive in the aftermath) cut in with a thin smile.

"Very well Captain, if that's how you want to play it. We'll finish matters here and let the proper channels decide on custody of the mage."

Meaning letting someone higher up the chain of command come done on him like a ton of bricks. Well maybe he'd still have time before that happened.

"Fine by me." Hawke slung the unconscious mage over one shoulder and headed for the stairs.

"Captain…why are you sticking your neck out for a blood mage?" This from Perrin, quietly enough not to be overheard and in tones suggesting he was only reluctantly taking on the job of suggesting that a superior might be doing something 'unwise'.

"When people who should be trying to kill me don't, I'll give them five minutes to explain why. Since he helped you out as well he might even get another five. Or three; two at least. Don't worry, we won't be laying out the best bedroom; and the templars will still have him soon enough. Maybe next time they'll send us backup who've actually seen a blood mage, not just read about them in books."

-o-o-

"Captain Hale." Hawke reined up at the sound of hooves and the voice he recognised. Most of the way back to the barracks and he'd almost been starting to think that this complete lack of plan might actually have flown; no such luck.

"Knight-Commander."

Knight-Commander Braegan regarded the figure slung over the front of Hawke's saddle dispassionately; Hawke suspected there was little that filled those eggshell green eyes with much warmth.

"Your efforts in gaining us a prisoner will be invaluable in learning the plans of these malificarum, and perhaps others. This was clearly no opportunistic attack yet it escaped the notice of both our commands; with war against Kirkwall coming no doubt we will see more." Of course the attack would have brought Braegan down to investigate personally, and to learn of the 'intervention'.

"Agreed; we're also both lucky not to have higher losses. Your men could have used Ser Hester's help a little sooner, cleaning out cornered mages isn't a job for two rookies."

Braegan frowned "If any of us falter even for a moment, we are all as you say, 'rookies' before malificarum. As your men would have discovered without our assistance in responding to that mob. This arguing however gains us nothing; by the Maker's mercy we are all here and we all have our roles to play. And that of the Guard does not involve the holding or interrogation of mages."

"Might ensure that those of us who'll end up tracking down and cleaning out every newly-found bolthole and escape route get the relevant information first hand." For a change.

-o-o-

"What is this mage to you, Captain?" The first hint of warning in the question.

"Beyond being a live source of information? As the one mage in the last hundred who hasn't tried to kill me on sight, he might not be completely unredeemable; though a live mage can always be remedied. Healers don't grow on trees though, in case Hester didn't mention that."

"You will not get the information from him that the Order will. That is our role." The Knight-Commander's voice held the ironclad certainty of a true believer; the question of methods irrelevant. How many differences between here and what Meredith had become? And would anyone question it if the answer became none.

"And had you seen as we have the price of trusting too far, one in a thousand would seem generous. This discussion is in any case pointless. You will give the mage to the Order, either now or on the order of his Grace; and I do not advise being the one to require his involvement in a matter already determined by both divine and secular law. Once the truth is known the mage will have the same justice any of us can expect in the Maker's eyes."

Hawke knew he was out of arguments; could hear time running out on the one opportunity to lose this with dignity.

_/The Champion would have kept the mage and said screw them all./_

_/Usually when you said that people died. Is it worth it over a mage you don't even know and could well be wrong about?/_

"Then I expect I'll see you in his Grace's office at his and your convenience. Until then the prisoner stays in the custody of the Guard. A novel taste of having rights under law."

Braegan's eyes were pale in anger "Do not overestimate your worth to Starkhaven, Hale. The intentions of this mage will not be the only truths under question after this."

"Maybe, but not under your judgement." Hawke turned and rode for the barracks, as the ice cracked and groaned.

-o-o-

Crazy stands or no, Hawke wouldn't usually have risked holding a mage at the barracks if not for a number of concoctions come up with over the years, useful for keeping sources of trouble 'subdued'. The mage would be miserable when they wore off, but it seemed preferable to the company of templars. It was round about the time that he'd started to come round that a runner had arrived from the palace requiring the _immediate_ presence of the Captain of the Guard in his Grace's office. Braegan must have managed to jump the queue somehow; even the delaying tactics of bureaucracy and meetings had let them down today. Hawke hadn't elaborated details to the guards detailed to watch the prisoner, except for Perrin who'd volunteered, insisting he was good for duty. Hawke sincerely hoped he wasn't about to repay that loyalty with disaster.

-o-o-

The Knight-Commander was already waiting as Hawke entered the small antechamber to Sebastian's private office, where matters more important or difficult were dealt with outside of regular hours or the open court sessions. Being the cause of one of those problems did not tend to make one popular. He and Braegan settled for pointedly ignoring one another from opposite sides of the room, while Sebastian's private guards did their best to avoid the storm brewing in the enclosed space. With his uncanny sense of timing (Hawke was sure he listened through the walls) the prince's steward Maclin emerged from his office, viewing the room with his perpetual suspicion for anyone likely to be the cause of headaches, late nights or additional paperwork (while demanding a ridiculous amount of the last item himself). On cue the office door opened, revealing the prince shaking hands with Kirkwall's current ambassador to Starkhaven, a noble Hawke had only met once or twice- Arinshaw? A striking young woman slipped out ahead of them, nodding to Maclin in a businesslike fashion, a lapdesk and bundled papers in one hand. Her features said elven although hair bound up revealed ears lacking the delicate points, half elven? A memory tugged at the back of Hawke's mind. Her eyes glanced casually around the room, met his; widened in shock. The desk fell from her hand, scattering papers "Haw…ke…" the word trailed into the roaring silence.

-o-o-

Through the mess of stares in their direction Hawke's eyes met Sebastian's, saw the look in them flicker through confusion to dawning realisation and fury. Whatever the look in his own eyes the voice in Hawke's head shouted only one thing: _/Run./_

Silence shredded as steel slid from sheathes. The guards moved firstly to ensure the prince's safety, shoving the group inside the offices, slamming doors, Hawke used the instant to put his back to the door he'd so recently entered through, yanking the key from his pocket, searching frantically behind him for the lock. He didn't dare turn and look for it, knowing the Knight-Commander's response would be to protect by eliminating the threat. His fingers brushed the lock as his blade met Braegan's; out of time. Hawke pressed forward on an attack, whipping his hand around to flick the key at the templar's face then broke for the corridor to the outer palace. Lousy odds he'd make it but better than none- the wall to his left exploded into flame and shrapnel sending hot pain across the side of his face. As he flinched away glass shattered at his feet, acrid fumes choking the air around him, setting him swaying on his feet. Through streaming eyes the blur that was the far end of the corridor was blocked by more figures closing in, he turned unsteadily at the sound of coughing behind him to meet some fool's blade; feeling a vicious satisfaction through the mounting dizziness as his counterstroke hit home.

-o-o-

"Take him alive!" They wouldn't take him for free. Snarling hoarsely through the burn in his lungs as they surrounded him, gasping and cursing themselves; someone's sword scoured a line across his back as his cut sent another to one knee, a sword hilt across the back of his head whiting out his vision for a moment.

Eventually, hands trussed behind his back they dumped him at the feet of a figure standing back from the area of flammable redecoration, another arrow (regular not fire, this time) nocked loosely against a bow held in one hand. _/Still keeping up the tricks from the Kirkwall days then, Sebastian?/_

"Never liked the carpet anyway" Hawke rasped, as the prince's boot collided neatly with his chin, cutting through the headache to send him into blackness.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_ That took _waay_ longer to finish than I'd hoped. Now that the doomy doom has hit the tale will be continued directly in another story that also fills a second kmeme promt (and I will_ not_ be trying to fill two prompts with one story again!). "Darkness in the Maker's Light" will be a dark!fic, definitely M-rated. 'Cause Sebastian's not feeling pissed or betrayed or anything. Honest. Check the list or my profile; enjoy.


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